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She stilled at the sound of her name being called, her heart giving a flutter for the briefest of moments until she realized Miles rarely called her Augusta and Henry’s tones were not as deep. She twisted on her heel to find him striding toward her. She smiled softly. He did look handsome in his buckskins and cravat. Most women would envy her indeed being alone with him, let alone being engaged to him.

“I owe you an apology.”

Yes, you do,she wanted to say but the words dissolved on her tongue. For all her talk of being bolder and trying to learn to flirt better and show him she was not just some shy, quiet wallflower who had sat around waiting for him, she had not changed one jot.

“Oh, no...” she began.

Henry held up a hand. “I know I do.” He gestured in the direction of her house. “I was coming to apologize to you and your parents when I saw you walking. I will still accompany you to your house if you do not mind.”

She exhaled slowly. Really, she wanted more time to walk alone. Being in Henry’s company was confusing. He was so pleasant and handsome and everything a woman should want. She found it hard to think for herself with him around. It seemed every time she had a singular thought, he blew it away like a cloud of smoke with his charming and reasonable words. “Of course,” she finally said, letting her shoulders drop.

“I had somewhat of an emergency the other night,” he explained as they began their stroll back toward the house.

“I see.”

“If I could have been there, I would have, I promise you.” He tugged at his cravat, making Augusta scowl. She could not say she knew him as well as she had always thought but that simple movement was an odd one. If there was anything Henry was not, it was disconcerted.

“Everyone was there to see you,” she said. “You were certainly missed.”

And she looked like a fool. She bunched her hands. And she was angry. So, so angry. Really, he deserved a lashing with her tongue.

“I know. You must forgive me, Augusta.”

“What was the emergency?”

“It was of an, ugh, sensitive matter.”

“Sensitive matter?”

“But I am here to make amends you see.” He smiled warmly.

“I see.”

“You are angry at me?”

She sighed. Of course she was. What woman would not be? But the words would not come. The lashing she ought to give rose up briefly then vanished under a haze of cowardice. “I thank you for apologizing.”

“It will not happen again,” he vowed.

“We shall have to organize something else. Much of society wished to see you.”

“Of course. Perhaps a dinner at Charlecote shall do the trick.”

“Perhaps,” she murmured, aware her stomach did a somersault at the thought of being across the table from Miles.

“Are your parents angry at me?”

“My mother is a little disconcerted perhaps. She could not understand why you would not be there,” she said, “but I suspect my father did not notice.”

“I shall grovel at her feet if I must.”

“I rather think she would be entirely embarrassed if you did such a thing.”

Henry grinned. “Would you rather I groveled at yours?”

“Certainly not!”

“If it is of any comfort to you, I have already had my ears practically boxed by Miles.”